


Vital Truth

by a_side_of_sin



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: M/M, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt, and just wants it to stop, rick hates himself, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:37:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5216405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_side_of_sin/pseuds/a_side_of_sin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This one will make you hurt. Rick hates himself, and Morty tries to make it better. TWs for suicide, attempted suicide, and self-harm. No smut, just feels. It’s dark, kids, not gonna lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vital Truth

_I hate myself._

 

The words had been ringing in his mind for days, and he couldn’t get them out. He had swallowed a liquor store trying to forget, and tried every drug in ten dimensions to get out of his head ( _addict, weak, pathetic, pitiful_ ). None of it worked. He grabbed the corkscrew from the drawer in the kitchen and used the point to carve deep gashes into his thigh. The metaphor was good, and the pain was distracting, but it didn’t last. It didn’t work. It never did.

 

_I am worthless._

He had fired up the atomizer in the garage again. He thought maybe, finally, he could get the words to stop pouring through his brain. But apparently he had fucked the atomizer up the last time, after Unity ( _screwed that one up pretty royally, piece of shit_ ), and all it did was singe his hair. He sighed, and went back to thinking about the corkscrew. Maybe he could just jam it into an artery and watch himself bleed out.

 

_I do not deserve to be loved._

He couldn’t remember the last time he had done something that he didn’t regret. Everything he had ever done, everyone he had ever known, everything he had ever been to the universe, it was all pointless ( _my existence has never mattered_ ). That was a key theme to his life. What was the point of being better, when it never gets better?

 

_I am a coward._

“Grandpa Rick?” He heard the kid come into the garage, and didn’t bother to look up. “Hey, hey R-rick, can I have some of that dust we found on Argentix that makes people tell the truth? Summer hid my DS and w-w-won’t tell me where it is.” He didn’t respond, just lifted himself off the stool by the workbench and went to dig through one of the boxes on the shelf. His hands shook as he looked for the bottle ( _fucking garbage alcoholic, worthless, hopeless_ ), and when he finally found it and went to hand it to the kid, he saw it slip from between his fingers and shatter on the floor.

 

_It hurts so much and I have no idea how to make it stop._

Numb, he reached for the small broom and dustpan that leaned up against the shelf. He knelt to sweep up the dust, careful not to agitate it too much ( _never careful enough_ ), when he noticed the kid on his hands and knees nearby. Without warning, the kid reached and brushed all of the dust toward him, stirring it up into a cloud, and it was too late, it was in his nose, in his eyes, and he had to get out of there, now.

 

_My life doesn’t matter._

 

The last thing he saw before the garage door slammed shut was the kid coughing and spluttering. He practically ran for his room, locked the door behind him, and reached out for something, anything, the nearest thing he could find to try to shut himself off ( _if only it were that simple_ ). The truth belonged in his head, where no one else had to listen to it, where he could pretend he didn’t hear it pounding through his mind every second.

 

_I am an atrocity._

 

He heard the lock click, and it was like everything happened in slow motion. He dropped the switchblade he had grabbed to draw gashes into his side, and let his shirt fall, but it was too late. The kid had seen the blood trickling down his side. He didn’t know how he had gotten in, but it didn’t matter now. There would be a horrified look, and the kid would leave. Everyone always left when they found out ( _such a fucking freak, why would they ever stay_ ).

 

_I want it to end._

“R-rick, talk to me, Rick.” The kid shut the door behind him and moved over to sit on the bed ( _too close, he’s too close_ ). He looked down at him, obstinate.

 

“Get out, M-moURRRPP, M-morty.” He needed the kid to leave. He didn’t think it was possible to hate himself more, but just the thought that the kid knew ( _what a worthless son of bitch he was_ ), and he had risen to new heights of loathing. If the words came tumbling out of his mouth like the kid wanted, he would just have another thing to regret. The kid would turn out just as fucked up as he was.

 

_I am ashamed of myself._

 

“No, R-rick. Y-y-you, y-you’ve been avoiding me, Rick. Why? Why haven’t we gone on any adventures? It’s, it’s been two w-w-weeks.” Careful, careful. Answer truthfully, don’t tell him anything. “Because, Morty, I’ve been busy. ( _Locked in my head_ ) I-I-I can’t just, can’t just r-run around with, with y-yoURRRPP whenever you’re bored, Morty.”

 

_I can’t do this anymore._

 

“Enough, Rick. Y-you, y-y-you think you’re so smart, to not answer me. F-f-f-, f-fine. I’ll, I’ll show you smart. Y-y-yes or no questions, R-rick. Are you mad at me?”

 

“No.” ( _Never, I could never be…_ )

 

“Are you sick?”

 

“Yes.” ( _If you only knew how fucked up I am…_ )

 

“Are you drunk?”

 

“Yes.” ( _Always…_ )

 

“Are you high?”

 

“Yes.” ( _Not high enough, not for this…_ )

 

“Do you love me?”

 

“What?” ( _Did he just ask that? He has to know I… Fuck…_ )

 

“You heard me. Do you love me?”

 

“Yes.” ( _More than I have ever loved anyone, perfect, you’re perfect…_ )

 

“You’re bleeding. Did you do that to yourself?”

 

“Yes.” ( _It didn’t work…_ )

 

“Have you hurt yourself before?”

 

“Yes.” ( _I never stop hurting myself…_ )

 

“W-why, Rick?”

 

“I…” ( _If you say it, he will leave._ )

 

“R-rick, please just talk to me. Why do you cut yourself?”

 

“I hate myself.”

 

And suddenly, the words were spilling out, all of them, everything he had ever thought about himself and his life. He couldn’t stop, fucking truth dust, and now the kid would know how pathetic ( _awful, worthless, terrible_ ) he is. This kid, who had been the only good thing for the last year, the only thing, the only person he cared about, would leave, and it would be his own fault ( _why did he have to be so fucked up_ ).

 

“… And I-I-I have been a shit, a shitty grURRPPandpa to you, M-morty. And now, now y-y-you, you’ll leave, because everyone I love leaves. Th-they always have.” He stared at his hands in his lap, and he knew ( _fucking genius, knows everything but how to fix himself_ ) that it would all be over now. He let himself slump, curling in on himself and facing the wall. He didn’t think he could bear to watch the kid go. The sharp stinging from his side echoed the sting in his head.

 

Instead of feeling the kid’s weight lift from the mattress, he felt the kid sink down beside him. An arm wrapped around his waist, and fingers intertwined themselves with his. He felt the fingers of the other hand pulling gently through his hair, and he sighed. There was warm breath on the back of his neck as the kid started speaking.

 

“O-okay, R-rick. It’s okay. M-my turn now. A-and, and y-y-you, y-you know that I got a mouthful of dust, t-too, so I can’t lie to you right now, Rick. So, so listen to me, r-r-really listen, when I tell you that I love you. Y-you are the most important person in, in my entire reality, and I would, w-w-would be nothing without you. I get, I get th-that it hurts, that it’s, it’s lonely, that it’s hard being y-you. I know w-what it feels like to hate myself, to want to hurt myself. B-but it’s, it’ll be okay, Rick. B-b-because, ‘cuz I am here for you. A-always. You don’t, d-d-don’t have to worry about me leaving. I know, know you will anyway, but, b-but I-I-I will spend the rest of m-my life w-with you, R-rick, if, if you let me. I don’t care about, a-about whatever bad things you did. I don’t, I don’t care about the bad things you do now. You’re my, my grandpa, my Rick, and I love you, no mat-, no m-matter what.”

 

The kid trailed off, and squeezed his hand tightly. He turned over on the bed, so that he was facing the kid, tucked his head into his chest, and let the kid wrap his arms around him once again. _Maybe, just this one time, it would be okay._ He stayed in his grandson’s embrace, and for once, it was quiet in his mind.

 


End file.
